HP: Spirit Talker

For a few seconds, the curses pounded into the unusual shield in vain, until one of the attackers shouted something very strange, and a dirty green blob of writhing energy separated from his wand. It was a curse, or was it sorcery(?), that tore the shield apart, but the swordsman deftly rolled to the side and dodged the attack.

The blot struck the tent, turning it into stinking rot in an instant. In response, the swordsman swung his left, free hand. A barely perceptible slash in the air, and in the next instant, another strip of paper was on the black magic lover's mask, exploding a second later with a thud. It was a good thing that Camille held Gloria's head like that — the sight of a face torn apart by the explosion, devoid of human features but howling madly with a failing mouth was not something children should see.

Then it was much the same: the masked men threw themselves to the side, snapping at each other with curses, trying to flee, but the swordsman caught them with animal speed, maimed them, and then took on the next until there were none left. Then he drew his wand and, with a sweep of it, pulled the masked men into a single pile, still alive, but not for long without medical attention. Each of the unwilling spectators felt a sense of triumph at the sight of the mangled, dying beasts.

However, seeing such cruelty was too much for the ordinary people, and some even had thoughts of saving the masked beasts. The swordsman collected all the enemy staffs, found the staffs of the victims from one of the already dead bodies, and simply slipped the "bundle" into the hands of an elderly man to distribute the property.

The swordsman then threw a bundle of paper strips into the air, which immediately flew around in a circle, leaving one strip in his hand. The stranger pressed the "paper" to his forehead and stood like that for a few seconds, after which a bubble of magical protection of blue hues rose around them. The swordsman approached the elderly man, who seemed to have a wooden leg instead of his right one, with a serious, heavy gaze. Holding out a strip of paper with glowing symbols, the young Asian man spoke.

— This is the central seal of protection. To remove the shield, simply tear the paper.

And then the stranger, who never introduced himself, left them. There were no fatal or dangerous injuries, so the people waited quietly until the Aurors arrived almost an hour later. The disabled man turned out to be a respected veteran, easily identified by the arriving guards. Among the rescued, there was no one so gifted as to have forgotten what had happened. Every witness recalled the scenes of the Eaters' inevitable demise until the day they died, and told their families what they had personally witnessed.

The Aurors, as well as the Unspeakables who arrived a little later, marveled not so much at the brutality of the massacre as at the technicality and professionalism with which the masked men had been punished. Even the stupidest of the Aurors realized that this was punishment.

***

By the time the Eaters removed the Apparition Lock, they had captured six more wizards and killed two more. The film showed only a handful of wizards with flashy wands, but even twenty wouldn't be enough to cause chaos in such a crowded camp. I heard the clapping of the apparitions, even managed to intercept a few runners, but I didn't have time to stuff them into the artifact — the wizards in scarlet robes finally appeared.

Of course, I didn't attack anyone, but I didn't obey them either: giving my sword and wand to the wrong people is the height of idiocy. I simply put my weapons back into the sheaths and raised my hands. It was a good thing that there was a sane sergeant among the "dummies" who had time to keep his subordinates in line.

They started attacking me for handing over my wand, threatening me, but the "Sergeant" or Senior Auror, wrapped in some Hopkiss and Stowley, spoke to me quite respectfully. To a normal explanation, I understandably agreed to go with them to the DMLE department to testify.

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